11/02/2024
A WARM WELCOME TO MAAM VALLEY: Part I (1880)
In May 1880, Gertrude Clements visited Maam Valley for a six-day sojourn. Clements and her husband, Henry, of Co. Cavan had inherited the estate from the hated Lord Leitrim two years earlier.
Despite the dangerous nature of the times, 1880 being in the heat of the Land War, Mrs Clements wrote of the warm welcome she received to the area.
'13 May 1880 - We left Galway in a comfortable open carriage for Maam at a quarter past 12.
We passed pretty bits of wood and some old places with stone gateways, once inhabited by gentry but now mostly ruined or to let, except one very old castle and many ruined cottages whose owners had probably gone to America in bad times.
Notwithstanding, the woods looked green, the fields rich and the views of Lough Corrib enhanced the beauty of the scenery.
The pastures were perfectly yellow with cowslips of more than ordinary size and primroses and hawthorn were plentiful by the roadside.
About three o'clock, we arrived at Oughterard, on market day. The street was full of very picturesque country people dressed in every variety of crimson, madder, pink and brown petticoats with bright shawls over their heads.
The men were in frieze coats, breeches & grey stockings. Many of them had donkeys with panniers in which were cabbage plants for sale brought from Lough Corrib islands.
We were given excellent tea, eggs, bread and butter in a very clean inn and went on in an hour through a bleak flat way to Maam.
The view became pretty when the mountains came into view and at the inn at the Maam Cross roads we met Mr George Robinson (the land agent) who followed us on his car to Maam.
A small boy who was tending some cattle took to running by the carriage with an amount of energy and skill over the rough banks and tussocks of grass, positively surprising.
Crossing an iron bridge built by Nimmo the engineer we found ourselves at the Maam Hotel, six hours, including one hour's rest, 26 miles from Galway.
The hotel is remarkably small, consisting of one sitting room with a bow window and two bedrooms opening into it and one other bedroom which the Mellett family give up when it is necessary.
We were quite unexpected, as Henry did not wish for a great demonstration, but poor Mrs Mellett was very much put out at having no notice as she had so little in the house, but I daresay the plan was a good one.
We had dinner and went to bed.
14th May: A fine day, but rather cold still. The poor people are gradually finding out about our arrival. We walked around this morning and saw the post office and courthouse, rather a good stone building.
I made a sketch and gathered some very pretty flowers. A blue digitalis, pink vetch, yellow pimpernels, bell heather and many other little plants. The ferns about here are beautiful Harts tongue.
Old Armstrong, the bailiff, came out and walked with us, but he is continually guarded by two men. Nevertheless, the bad times obliged him to try and make a little money by them.
It is remarkable in this poor country, where the houses are so small and inconvenient and so many of the people have not enough to eat and where the grazing is on such shallow, rocky soil, that the people, with very few exceptions, should be so much better clothed than in other parts of Ireland where they are better off.
The men are always in comfortable homespun tweeds and friezes, warm and often pretty with clothes of white or black and white flannel for working suits and invariably look well dressed.
The woman wear warm flannel, either brown, black or white or various shades of crimson, pink and brown.
The little girls nearly always have clean pinafores and calico jackets and are decidedly clean and tidy.
On Sundays, the women wear very large blue cloaks and a neat light shawl over their heads for going to church (which is often a long expedition) - and they never buy gaudy finery or clothes that will not last.
On our return from Kilmilkin, as we approached the hotel we beheld a crowd and two youths bearing between them a sort of banner of scarlet with white letters adorned with green leaves and "Cead Mile Failte".
This was carried in front of us as Mr. Mellett (the hotelkeeper) whacked the horse for several hundred yards, and the crowd followed.
The banner was finally planted against the bridge opposite the windows of the little hotel, for us to contemplate.
All the evening, men hang about the bridge and women sit under the wall knitting.
Our appearance at the door is always a signal for one or another to come up with a letter and the number we have been given altogether is past counting - all either begging for help or for some alteration in their farm and land.'
Part II tomorrow.
Picture of Maam, courtesy NLI.
Courtesy also to Brigid Clesham who wrote a fine article on this topic in the Journal of the Galway Archaeological and Historical Society of 2015